


Do You Remember?

by Ennead



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-24 23:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennead/pseuds/Ennead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long overdue conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Remember?

Nathan had been sleeping when Pickles knocked on his door, looking worn out and older than he rightfully should have. It was pretty clear that something was wrong, and from the looks of him, it was serious enough that Pickles wasn't drinking to solve the problem. Being sober was much more of a strike to the drummer's spirit, so Nathan let him in without even having to ask. Whatever it was couldn't really wait.

He stifled a yawn while he waited for Pickles to talk, not having the ability to voice his concerns just yet. It was so early, and he hated having to talk about... anything that made his friend this upset. They'd been down this road before and it only made his terrible communication skills worse. Nathan was effectively mute for the time being, but it hardly seemed to matter, since the other man had come to a conclusion and was clearing his throat with a tired sound.

"Nate," he muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "Ah'm reely tired."

Sighing, Nathan tried not to look frustrated. Yeah, he was tired too. What the fuck was it, three in the morning?

"Ah'm tired ah... all this." Pickles made a sweeping gesture with one arm, irritably. The frontman frowned.

"Me?"

"No, not... no. Jest... this life."

"We're, uh... rich. And do whatever we want. I'm uh, not following you here," Nathan admitted. It was just too early for him to be processing hints and vague bullshit; Pickles needed to tell him exactly what was up or he wasn't going to get the point. God, it was early. He yawned again.

The drummer clenched his jaw a little, but released it, lacking the energy to be frustrated for very long. He'd woken the big guy up really early and expected him to be functional while getting bitched at; that wasn't really fair. Nathan wasn't stupid, but he wasn't going to enjoy what was coming next. Maybe not the best way to start a day, in retrospect. Pickles sighed.

"Do ya remember how it was before Dethklok?"

"Yeah. Wasn't... actually that long ago," Nathan realized aloud, taking a moment to recall. That had been his life for quite a while, and it had been swept up by the fame and the money back when they became famous. But truthfully it hadn't been that long ago. "Have you been, uh... thinking? About that? Is that why..."

He knew the rest. This was pretty much what he'd hoped wouldn't happen, if only because he didn't know how to handle it. Fuck.

"Y'know, we said we were gonna go back to how things were. Once we gat famous. You said," Pickles emphasised lightly, shooting Nathan a look that made him feel impossibly guilty, "it was jest temporary. Fer public appearances, 'n all that."

There was a very long silence, and Nathan couldn't even imagine what he was supposed to fill it with. He didn't have a starting place, let alone a full statement to give on it... and god, Pickles was still fucking looking at him with that expression, one he hadn't seen in a while. Nathan felt a light flush rise on his cheeks at that, embarrassed that he could be bent so easily. "God dammit, that's not fair."

"Whet isn't?"

"You're... giving me that... that look. Manipulative fuck."

Pickles scowled. "Well answer me then! Gahd, Nate, yeh'd think this was a feckin' inquisition here. Ah'm jest -- I have a right ta know--"

"I DON'T KNOW," Nathan shot back, effectively cutting him off into a stunned silence. The truth was that no, he didn't know at all. He knew what Pickles was asking him, and he knew what Pickles wanted to hear. He knew what he should say, and what he wanted to say. But he had no idea what he was capable of saying or following up on. It was a hell of a push back in time for him, something he thought about all the time but never with enough depth to allow himself to feel the force of it. And he just did not have the energy to pretend this was Pickles' fault.

It was his.

He cleared his throat and sat down on the bed next to Pickles, feeling like shit and looking the part. "I'm not saying I don't want to. It's just really. I don't know, we never told the guys. I feel like..."

"Whet are ya, ashamed?"

"Kinda, yeah!" Nathan admitted, shrugging angrily. The hurt look that earned him was painful to look at, but he wasn't going to lie. "I mean, not of... I'm not ashamed of you, I'm just. I don't know. Maybe ashamed isn't the uh, the right word. Maybe it is, I don't... This shit is difficult. How the fuck can you blame me, it's been years since I even... Fuck, Pickles, why now?"

"Why nat a year ago, more like? Why nat years before thet? Why nat always so we didn't have ta feckin' lie to our friends and pull all this bullshit? What're ya waitin for that now isn't the time?" The scowl had returned, but still couldn't mask that look of rejection Pickles had worn a few moments before. Fuck, was Nathan actually ashamed of what they'd had before Dethklok started up? What a god damned idiot I was coming here, he thought bitterly. Obviously this doesn't even fucking matter to him. I should just leave, right now...

But even as he told himself that, he knew it wasn't true. If Nathan didn't give a fuck, he'd say so. He wouldn't be stumbling over these awkward explanations and trying to talk about it. He'd just turn Pickles away.

Nathan lay back on his bed, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes and suppressing the desires to break something or break down, or do both. He collected himself and spoke, slowly but without faltering.

"We both decided this would make it easier for us trying to get famous. This wasn't my idea, it was ours. Don't try to blame me for all of this. And I know I fucked up by just letting it go on all this time but you didn't say anything either until now, so lay the fuck off of me, all right? I'm just not even sure how to handle this."

"Can ya at least tell me if I'm even looking at a chance?"

"Of--" Nathan stumbled over his words in absolute disbelief, and chose instead to wave a hand angrily in Pickles' direction. "Yes, fuck. Of course."

There was another prolonged silence as he lay there, eyes shut, but this time it didn't feel as heavy. He opened one eye and found Pickles looking at him over his shoulder, a large amount of the anger drained from his face already.

"That sher woulda been nice ta know earlier," he said quietly, "but it's still great ta know now."

This was so fucking stupid, Nathan thought. He doubted whether either of them had been fully on board with the idea from the start - he knew he hadn't been, at least - and though it lowered any controversy they might have encountered on the way up to the top, he wasn't sure it mattered now. Hell, did anything? Was there a thing in the world that would stop their crazy fucking fans from pumping the Dethklok empire up with their money? Nathan didn't think so, and he regretted ever having bothered to put on the show in the first place. Before Dethklok had even begun, he and Pickles had been happy together. For a few years, they'd just been some regular jackoffs, and he had to admit that even though it was a far less plush life than the one he had come to have, he had also been happier then.

Still, there was a cause and effect there. He had been happy, and then he and Pickles had decided to feign being straight; and the happiness was gone. It was so simple Nathan couldn't possibly look past it. But it didn't make the big picture any less complex.

He reached over with one hand and waved at Pickles' side, brushing against it. The drummer gave him a questioning look and Nathan jerked his head in the affirmative. His expression surprised but not at all unpleased, Pickles laid down besides Nathan and tentatively put an arm across his chest. Somehow he felt like the big guy would vanish if he touched him too firmly, so he didn't push his luck. This wasn't the response he'd expected in heading there that night, but he couldn't argue with results.

Nathan marveled at how familiar it felt; like it had been yesterday when they'd last done this. He pulled Pickles closer with his arm, settling their bodies together.

After that, sleep came easily.


End file.
